


Nothing Owed (Something Owned)

by Krystalicekitsu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Butt Plugs, Lazy Sex, M/M, Marking, Morning Sex, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-11
Updated: 2010-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes to the gentle feeling of fingertips dancing patterns into his back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Owed (Something Owned)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entanglednow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/gifts).



> for [](http://entangled-now.livejournal.com/profile)[**entangled_now**](http://entangled-now.livejournal.com/)'s Birthday. Enjoy, Tangles!

Sam wakes to the gentle feeling of fingertips dancing patterns into his back. He hears the sigh above him, contented and lazy, and snuggles further into his pillow with a sleepy murmur.

The fingers rearrange themselves until just one drags sensually down the hollow in his spine from the base of his neck, over his shoulders, down his ribs, rises with the swell in his low back and dips down the crack to his tail bone. The fingers don’t stay, instead retreating to sweep their path again, lighter this time. They occasionally get distracted by a knife scar, or hover over a bullet wound and there will be a hum of disapproval before they continue downwards or get distracted by something else.

Though it must be morning already- Sam's never been able to sleep once the sun is up, daylight or no- he has no intention of rising, and the fingers, now joined by lips, are keeping him in a lazy, pleasant stupor of slight arousal. Not enough to demand a quick fuck, or even a slow one, or a hand job or a blow job or- but just that lazy, low, relaxed sort of pleasure that warms the body from head to toe. Like sinking into warm honey.

There's an inquisitive noise above him and Sam squishes his head into the pillow a second more before turning his head lazily so he can peer blearily from behind his bangs.

Lucifer brushes the hair out of his eyes absently before his fingers find the path once again, continuing their journey and keeping him feeling like a cat in a pool of sunshine, "'Honey'?"

Sam hums. He's not sure if it's in agreement or acknowledgement. He's not sure if he cares.

Lucifer leans forward and Sam sighs as a hot, quick tongue joins the dancing fingers. Shoulders, ribs low back-

Sam hums again- or maybe it's a groan- as a palm massages one cheek, pulling outward so one thumb can caress his hole. He shifts his hips, trying to get a small bit of lazy, feel-good friction on his dick, which is thinking about waking up.

The palm disappears and, again, the fingertips are back, one long sensual drag and it’s so good, so indulgent. He wonders how he ever went without. Wonders if maybe Lucifer could be convinced to stay like this for eternity with those deliciously dexterous fingers and his-

Sam groans, as the fingers traveling back down are met with the ones that had been drug from the bed up his hip to part him and are now dipping inside. Two different hands, two different fingers at an asymmetrical rhythm inside him and out and-

He arches his back, pulls his chest off the bed because those clever fingers found his prostate and oh, _God_.

Lucifer is adding teeth to the mix, lazy nips to his lower back, his thighs, drag and slow press of danger over his sides and suddenly this isn't lazy and slow and relaxed. This is Lucifer being Lucifer- self-assured and confident, prideful almost to a fault and _taking_ and taking, but never somewhere that won't be fantastic and amazing and maddening.

And somehow he never minds that he can't always remember agreeing _before_ the fact because he never minds _after_ the fact (and some of the things he probably _wouldn’t_ have agreed to before the fact are _amazing_ on the other side).

Sam groans and starts rocking as two hands and four fingers are inside him, digging and Sam knows what he’s doing, can feel it as Lucifer works his own come back out of Sam and paints his thighs, his lower back, spreading as much as he can over Sam’s ass.

Considering he’d _literally_ fucked Sam asleep last night, he’s got enough and yeah, Lucifer’s hands are back, spreading his mess over Sam’s ribs and slicking it around his hips to lazily stroke at his cock.

One hand disappears from his balls while the other keeps stroking and Sam bucks as two fingers plunge back inside and then are gone before coming back once more and then again before Lucifer raises himself up over Sam.

And Sam knows what’s coming, bracketed by the archangel’s legs, one hand working Sam’s cock. Knows the other is on Lucifer's own dick, beating off over him. He’s inches from the edge when Lucifer leans over, breath harsh and warm against Sam’s cheek and along his neck. Teeth bite into the cartilage on the top of his ear and _tug_ -

Sam’s coming with a gasp, twisting his head, trying to get more pull on his ear, more of that pressure. He comes down slowly but fast enough to savor the choked breath above him, the pause.

The scalding warmth shooting across his back and then down his ribs and-

Sam jerks as Lucifer breaches him, cock still pulsing and jerking, filling him as Lucifer shoves himself inside, harsh little jerks and he feels too full, like he's being stuffed for roasting but Lucifer keeps thrusting. He keeps thrusting and Sam can feel it spilling out of him adding a wet noise, suction as Lucifer pulls out and a smack as his hips meet Sam's ass.

And then suddenly it's over, Lucifer stilling above him, cock giving a final pulse inside him.

The devil settles over Sam's back, protecting even as he stakes his claim, cock softening inside Sam as he peppers Sam's face and shoulders with kisses. And Sam feels owned, cherished and owned and it's not something he thought he'd feel _here_ with this particular person- _archangel_ \- but he does and he gets that Lucifer likes it. He likes that Sam feels owned and protected, even if he has to deal with Sam's emotional freak-outs occasionally.

Because, Sam thinks, the devil's never had something that was _just his_ before. Like a kid in a family of fourteen finally having his own room and being allowed to paint the walls- and why the hell did Sam's mind come up with that particular metaphor?

Sam feels the grin pressed into his shoulder before Lucifer pulls away, pulls out. He feels the stretch Lucifer makes over his back to the nightstand. Muscles relax and loosen seconds later and-

Sam's breath hitches when he feels the butt plug slide home.

Then Lucifer's back, breathing into his ear, "You're mine. And I'm not done with you yet."

  



End file.
